


Unintended

by siriuslysnuffles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry Potter, Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Magic, Elder Wand, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Rimming, Rituals, The Tale of the Three Brothers, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslysnuffles/pseuds/siriuslysnuffles
Summary: The Elder Wand is more than it seems, and breaking it has unintended consequences. After years of attempting to break the curse placed on his very core, he only has one hope left, Draco Malfoy.Written for the Draco tops Harry fest 2018.





	Unintended

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a ridiculous amount of writers block for A Darker Take, so this was a breath of fresh air! Expect an update on that fic within the moth, but until then, enjoy this!

Harry ran his hands roughly through his hair, tousling the dark strands even more in his frustration. 

Yet another one of his owls had returned, and he only had to read the first line before he realized his efforts had again been wasted. 

“Mr. Black,” the letter began, “I am sorry to say that I simply lack the expertise…” 

That was when he had stopped reading, and instead tossed the letter into the fire.

That was the fifth curse breaker he had contacted, and the fifth rejection he had received. 

He had decided on using the alias James Black to send the letters, in an effort to prevent the fawning fans that normally accompanied the use of his given name. However, now he wondered if any of those he contacted would have put in more effort had they known who he really was.

He glanced over at the crumpled sheets of parchment that covered his desk, at the failed attempts taunted him mercilessly.

Sighing, he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and began anew.

“Malfoy, 

I know we never got along at Hogwarts, and believe me, if I had any other option I wouldn't be writing you now.

I have a problem, of the curse variety, and I think you may be the only one who can help.

If you're interested, let me know when you're available to floo over.

-Harry Potter”

Writing those few lines took him over thirty minutes, partially because of his inability to think of the right words, but mainly because of the intermittent trembling of his hands.

Before he had a chance to regret it, Harry sealed the letter, and, attaching it to the owl he bought to replace Hedwig, sent it of to his school yard nemesis.

—————

Harry spent the next few days anxiously glancing at the windows, worried that every approaching owl held Malfoy’s rejection.

Four days later, it happened.

He was sitting on the couch, reading yet another pamphlet of research that Hermione had sent over, when a large jet black eagle owl swooped through the window he had left open in the hopes of coaxing in a breeze.

Harry jumped open immediately, wiping his now sweaty palms on his pants.

With shaky hands, he untied the letter from the owl as quickly as possible, likely irritating the owl as he jostled it.

Finally, he managed to detach the letter, and absent-mindedly tossed the owl a few treats as he unrolled the tightly furled scroll.

“Potter,

Although I highly doubt that anything you have to say will be of interest to me, I will floo over at 6 o’clock Friday evening. Unless you owl to say otherwise, I will assume that this is agreeable.

-Malfoy”

After reading the letter, he sighed in relief, collapsing against the couch.

Malfoy was as rude and condescending as ever, but at least now he had a chance.

—————

The days leading up to Friday seemed to drag on for centuries, especially as his symptoms were continuously getting worse.

By the time six finally rolled around, Harry realized he had never been so excited to see Malfoy. 

As soon as the clock struck six, the floo roared to life, and out came Malfoy, annoyingly graceful as he clambered out of the fireplace.

He took his time brushing the soot off of his wool gray overcoat, before looking up at Harry.  
“Potter,” Malfoy said, nodding curtly.

“Malfoy,” he replied, taking the opportunity to eye Malfoy up and down. The other man had grown since their Hogwarts years, and now stood at least a few inches taller than himself.

His pale blond hair was swept back into a low pony tail, reminiscent of his father’s. He wore a white button up with a charcoal gray suit vest, and tapered wool pants. A swooping overcoat covered the whole ensemble, and Harry felt distinctively scruffy in his jeans and t shirt.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Malfoy broke it.

“So,” he said briskly, “What exactly is your problem?”

“Well,” he began, before pausing, sitting down on the couch and gesturing Malfoy to the adjacent arm chair.

“I'm not sure how much you know about the Elder Wand..?”

“I’m familiar with the lore, yes. And… a bit about how it played into the end of the war,” 

“Well, then you know that by the time all things were said and done, the wand was mine. I decided that the power was too much for me, for anyone, really. I know that Dumbledore could handle it, but at that point, the state I was in… No one should have that kind of power.”

Here he paused, scratching the back of his head, preparing himself for the scolding that he was surely about to receive.

“So… After I defeated Voldemort, I… snapped the wand.”

There was a pause, as Draco merely gaped at him, open mouthed. 

“Potter, you're not seriously telling me that you… snapped… one of the most powerful magical artifacts of all time?”

“I know it was stupid! But at the time, I had just defeated the most powerful dark wizard in the history of the world, and was a bit fed up with this over concentration of power.”

Draco still looked baffled, so instead of trying to further justify himself, he continued his story.

“Well, ever since then I've been getting... sick. My magic, its not behaving, all of my spells are either over-powered, or under-powered. I can hardly do anything wandlessly anymore, and when I do use a wand, my hands shake so badly I can barely hold it. I just… feel like I’m falling apart, and I suspect it is because of the elder wand.”

Draco was already looking at him as though he was a science experiment, and he knew that what he was going to say next would only make it worse.

“There’s… one more thing,” In one shaky hand, he raised his wand to his face, and, with a tap, removed the glamour that he had been wearing nearly constantly. 

His cheeks were so sunken in that the imprints of his teeth showed through to the outside, and his eyes were so dull and hollow that his vibrant green eyes appeared nearly black. His skin, normally tanned and healthy looking, was sallow, and not just pale, but tinged with grey. 

Draco visibly recoiled, before sighing and leaning forward to make eye contact with Harry once again.

“Potter, you are hands down the single most imbecilic person I have ever met. But, your situation is interesting to me, so I will help you,” Draco replied, looking almost physically pained at the idea of helping him.

Even though it was Malfoy, and even though it still may not work, Harry felt an indescribable sense of relief wash over him. 

“Before we begin though, there are a few things that you should know. I am not a light wizard, Potter. I use dark magic, blood magic, rituals that you won't find in the books at Hogwarts. Understand that the classification of magic is not what I concern myself with. What I concern myself with is results.”

“I… understand,” It was a hard pill for him to swallow, but at this point, if dark magic was what it took to save his life, dark magic is what he would do.

Draco spent the next hour running various tests on him, his face becoming increasingly grim as the results came back. 

Eventually he sighed, before saying, “Well Potter, it doesn’t look great. I’m going to take a vial of your blood, and I’ll get back to you…eventually.”

After saying this, Draco put his wand to Harry’s forearm, extracting a stream of blood that rose up out of his arm into a nearby conjured vial.

As he did so, Harry sat there contemplating what Draco could've meant by ‘not great.’ He knew his chances weren't good, but hearing the other man say that brought him pause. He sighed, shaking his head roughly as though to get rid of the negativity plaguing him.

After he finished extracting the blood, Draco stood up abruptly, brushing seemingly non-existent dust off of his robes. 

Harry stood up and, after a moment of awkward silence, reached forward and shook the other mans hand.

“I’ll look forward to your owl,” Harry stated, dropping Draco’s hand as quickly as could still be considered polite.

Draco nodded without replying, before turning and flooing back, presumably, to Malfoy Manor.

Harry sank back into his couch, absentmindedly waving his wand and urging his magic to restore his glamour. Even though he was alone, he could hardly stand to leave his true appearance on show.

—————

The next few days passed slowly, each one agonizing as his symptoms worsened.

Five days later, Harry awoke to a tapping on his window. Initially he ignored it, but as the noise continued, he blearily opened his eyes.

All traces of tiredness quickly vanished, however, when he realized that it was Malfoy’s eagle owl at the window. 

As fast as he could, he unfurled the tightly rolled, wax sealed, scroll. After a moment of struggling, he wrested it open.

“Potter, 

I have some news regarding your condition. I will be over tonight at eight, if that is not agreeable, reply by owl and let me know. If I don't hear from you, I’ll assume thats fine.

-Malfoy”

He audibly sighed with relief, although Malfoy hadn't mentioned anything regarding whether the news was good or bad, the thought of having any more knowledge at all eased some of the burden he carried.

Later that night, as soon as the grandfather clock perched precariously on the mantle chimed eight, the floo roared to life, and Malfoy stepped out, as graceful and well dressed as ever. 

Harry had put in slightly more effort into his appearance this time around, but he still felt conspicuously out of place next to Malfoy.

His main issue, however, stemmed from his lack of glamour. His magic had become increasingly weak over the last several days, and he found that he could no longer maintain the charm for more than a few moments. 

Without hesitation, Draco sat in the same armchair he had occupied last time, and swung a previously unnoticed sleek black briefcase onto the low coffee table. 

Harry perched on the couch adjacent to Malfoy, as the other man unlocked his case with a tap of his wand and a flash of blue.

The lid popped open, revealing four slim vials nestled inside the emerald velvet interior. The first shown a deep ruby red, the second was so golden it hurt to look directly at it, the third was a pale teal, reminiscent of an especially clear ocean, and the fourth was so black that it seemed to absorb all light that came near it.

“These, Potter, are vials containing what I believe is your best bet at survival. I prepared each one myself, after analyzing the sample I obtained from you last time, if none of these work, we may have to move on to more… drastic measures.”

Harry nodded, gulping, before reaching for the ruby red vial, the first in the line up. At Draco’s nod, he drank the vial, gasping at the strong taste.

Immediately he felt the liquid react within his body, it felt as though his intestines had been replaced with snakes, and he was boiling from the inside out. He looked up at Draco, noticing the red tint to his vision for the first time.

The other man gave an irritated sigh, before waving his wand and muttering something in a language he didn't understand. Instantly, the pain stopped, although he barely had time to register this before another vial was placed in his grip.

Wearily, he drank it, only to experience excruciating pain once again. This happened again, and again.

By the end, Harry lay heavily on his couch, looking apprehensively at Draco, who was now pacing the well worn carpet in front of the fireplace. 

Draco paused for a moment, opening his mouth as though to say something, before closing it again, and resuming his pacing.

Another moment passed in this manner, before the blonde sat wearily down in the arm chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle. He stared at Harry contemplatively for a moment, before saying, “There are a few more potions that may work… However, I feel that the odds are slim. Or, we can try a, well, a rather dark ritual. I had hoped to avoid it, but I feel that after this failure, it may be the only option left to us.”  
Harry sighed, and rolled his head back for a moment before answering, “What do I need to do?”

—————

Draco had ended up staying for dinner, in order to be able to sufficiently explain the ritual in full detail.

It was, as he had said, dark. It required a rather large blood tribute, some willing, and some… unwilling. It couldn't be performed until the new moon, which was nearly two weeks away, in that time it was Harry’s duty to collect various samples of blood from those he was closest to. Further, he and Draco would need to prepare the ritual site together in the week leading up to the new moon. 

This would require a large amount of time spent with the blonde, and Harry was unsure how to feel about such a thing.

 

Describing the ritual had only taken about half of dinner, and after that it had been surprisingly easy to maintain conversation. By the end of it, Harry had felt something stirring in him that he thought he had died along with Voldemort.

At the end of his sixth year, when he ended things with Ginny, he had done so only partially because of the danger their relationship had put her in. He had also done it because he could no longer deny that the feelings he felt towards her resembled that of what a brother feels, not a lover. 

He had done it because of the realization that he was more turned on my the sight of Draco Malfoy in his quidditch gear, than he had ever been by Ginny Weasley in any situation.

He had forgotten about his infatuation in the years since the final battle, but seeing the other man, and speaking to him for an extended period of time, had swiftly reminded him of those feelings. 

He quickly shook himself from his thoughts, reminding himself that he had work to do, if he wanted any hope of retaining his magic. 

With that thought in his mind, he floo’d over to Ron and Hermione’s house, to hopefully collect several vials of blood from those he considered his family.

—————

By the end of the week, he had collected the seven required vials of blood, one each from Ron, Hermione, their children Rose and Hugo, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Luna, who he had been increasingly close with since the end of the war. 

His conversation with Luna had been as interesting as ever, as she had repeatedly reassured him that she didn’t mind his relationship with Draco, despite her imprisonment in his basement.

When he had insisted that there was no relationship to approve of, she merely smiled dreamily at him, before extracting the required three ounces of blood, that, he realized later, he hadn't even had the chance to ask for. 

All too soon, it was Sunday, and Harry was due at Malfoy Manor precisely at six, for dinner, and to prepare for the ritual, which was set to occur the following Sunday.

When he arrived, he was surprised to be greeted by Draco himself, rather than an overly pretentious house elf. 

Dinner passed surprisingly quickly, as they spoke with surprising ease. If he didn't know better, Harry may have thought the other man was flirting with him.

Inevitably, however, the subject of the war surfaced.

“You should know, Potter,” Draco began, eyes focused on his soup, avoiding eye contact with the other man, “Although my actions while in the service of the Dark Lord were out of my control… the decision to join him was entirely my own.”

At this he looked up, grey eyes piercing green, before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in a vague attempt at cool nonchalance. 

“I regretted it in the end, when I saw what the power had done to him, how corrupt he had become, but I was, I am, a dark wizard. I joined him for the power, and, if another dark lord arose… I can't say that I wouldn't consider joining him.”

Harry leaned back too, matching the other man’s posture, and taking a moment to pause before replying. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

Draco shrugged, before replying, “Because, for some merlin forsaken reason, I trust you. And I believe you have power,” here he tilted his head contemplatively, “Power that you haven't realized fully yet.”

Before Harry had a chance to reply to this strange pronouncement, the clock in the hall chimed eight, signaling that it was time to begin the set up for their ritual.

Malfoy lead him into the basement, lazily flicking his wand to turn on lights as they went. They finally reached the basement, where Draco shoved open a heavy wooden door that led to a dimly lit room with stone walls and a stone floor.

Against the furthest wall was a roughly made stone table, with a gently simmering cauldron perched on it. 

“This, Harry, is where the ritual will occur. Did you bring the vials?”

Nodding, Harry withdrew the padded case he had brought from within an inner pocket of his jacket. He handed the case over to Malfoy, who took it with great care. 

Draco retrieved a similar case, and opened it to reveal seven vials of a dark ruby red liquid. 

“Is that… blood?” Harry asked, suspecting he already knew the answer. 

“Yes, Potter, it’s blood. I payed a visit to Azkaban during the week, we need the blood of your enemies, and I figured that most old death eaters fit that description.”

Absently Harry nodded, not completely comfortable with the idea of Draco breaking into Azkaban to essentially steal blood for him.

“Oh, get over it, Potter. This is not the end of what we will have to do to complete this ritual, so I suggest you get used to a bit of dark magic,” Draco scoffed. 

“Once you do, you might find you quite like it,” He murmurs, looking up from the cauldron, which he had begun to slowly poor the vials into, to make eye contact with the other man.

Harry scoffed indignantly, but before he could reply, Draco began speaking again.

“After I add the rest of these, I’m going to need you to open a cut on your hand with this,” here he gestured vaguely to an ornately carved silver knife that lay innocently on the table next to him, “Allow it to bleed into the cauldron until I tell you to stop.”

Harry did as instructed, wincing only slightly at the sting of the blade. Draco let him bleed for what seemed to be far too long, but still, he only stopped when the blonde was satisfied. 

After doing so, it seemed his usefulness had expired, and he merely sat down on a nearby stool and watched Draco work. 

It was fascinating, watching him. He cut and sliced unknown ingredients effortlessly, barely pausing to look at the instructions he had copied onto a spare bit of parchment. As amazing as it was, Harry found his gaze drawn to Draco, more often than it was drawn to the cauldron.

Watching the flexing of his pale arms as he prepared the ingredients was more intoxicating than anything else he had ever experienced. The way his jaw clenched, and the tendons in his neck stood out, when he was particularly focused drew Harry to him like a moth to a flame. 

He slowly stood from his stool, almost subconsciously, and moved to stand closer to the other man. 

Draco seemed to tolerate his presence, at the very least, and allowed him to stand where he was, ostensibly, observing the potion making. 

“So… What, exactly, are you doing?” Harry asked, clearing his throat.

“Well, Harry, since you asked so eloquently, I suppose I’ll explain,” He replied with a smirk.

“This is an ancient ritual, some sources say it dates back to the founders themselves, but who, really knows… Anyway, all magic is a manifestation of feeling, love, hate, joy, sorrow, you get the idea. This potion incorporates an equal amount of blood borne of love, and that of hate. Despite what you may think, they don't neutralize each other, rather they each amplify the other, making the magic almost chaotic. When combined with a few other ingredients, such as your blood, moondew, asphodel, and sulphur vive, it becomes a sort of, channel, for lack of a better word.”

“A channel… for what?”

“Well…to commune with the dead. Ideally, this will summon the spirit of one of the three brothers, and they will, I suppose, pass judgement. If they find you worthy, which I’m assuming they will, as they are your ancestors, they’ll remove the curse.”

“You don’t sound very confident,” Harry replied, laughing weakly.

“I’m not, this ritual hasn't been performed in at least a century, and the times that it was performed were barely documented. This is a last resort, but that doesn't mean it won't work.”

Harry sighed, nodding in silent acquiescence, before resuming his contemplation of Draco’s steadily working hands.

They stood like this, in silence, until the potion was ready. When it was finally finished, Harry awkwardly took a half step back, unaware of the exact moment at which he had moved to stand less than half a foot behind Draco. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just got caught up in what was going on, I didn’t mean to stand so close,” Harry stammered awkwardly. 

“Are you sure about that?” Draco began with a smirk, “I think you just wanted to be near me.”

Gulping, Harry looked down at his feet, unsure of what to do when confronted with the truth.

“Calm down, Potter, I’m just kidding,” soon though, the smirk fell from his face as he realized that his barb actually hadn't been as far from the truth as he had thought. 

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry looked back up from his feet to make eye contact with Draco, and was surprised to find himself being scrutinized by the other’s piercing gray eyes. 

They held eye contact for a minute, before Harry screwed up all of his legendary Gryffindor courage, and surged forward, capturing Draco’s lips roughly in his own.

The blonde gasped beneath his lips, before beginning to return the kiss. Harry intertwined his fingers between the surprisingly soft strands of platinum hair, savoring the smell, taste, and closeness of Draco. 

They kissed for what felt like, days, months, years. It seemed as though time had ceased to exist the moment their lips touched. 

Finally, though, they parted, leaning their foreheads against each others as they panted softly.

“That was… unexpected,” Draco smirked, leaning back against the work station. 

Harry glanced away briefly, before replying, “I should… get going. Owl me a time to be here on Sunday.

Nodding contemplatively, Draco let him leave.

—————

The next week passed at an agonizing pace, he could think of nothing but the kiss, and the upcoming ritual.

On Tuesday, he received an owl, informing him that he was to arrive at the manor at precisely eleven o’clock the following Sunday. Also included, was a detailed drawing of an ancient runic circle, which, it said, he was to memorize.

That Saturday night, he slept restlessly, his dreams filled with nothing but the feeling of soft lips and rough stubble against his face.

—————

He stepped out of the floo, barely exchanging a nod with Draco, each man too nervous to say much.

They headed immediately to the basement, where Draco watched silently as Harry took the potion from the week prior, and painted it on the floor, in the intricate pattern of the runes he had so closely studied. 

When he had finished, his watch read 11:57. He stood up, walking nearer to Draco, and awaited instruction. 

Before he could speak, Draco leaned forward, and gently pressed their lips together. It was sweeter, this time, lingering and soft.

He pulled away before they could truly sink into the kiss, all too aware of their limited time line.

“Sit in the middle of the circle,” Draco said gruffly, fighting the desire to resume the kiss, “I’ll begin the spell as the clock strikes midnight.”

Harry did as instructed, settling himself down on the hard floor, cross legged.

As the clock began to chime, Draco began.

“Vivifica praeteriti, 

allegare offerre consilium.

Positam revocet juramentum,

ei animum expiaret. 

Ut paululum cibi. 

Renovare. 

Erigam illud.”

He repeated this again.

Halfway through the second repetition, dust began to stir through the room, their magic swirling, combining, forming into vaguely defined shapes.

He kept repeating the chant, as the magic intensified. 

After the seventh repetition, things stilled. Abruptly. As three almost skeletal beings seemed to rise from the very ground they were standing on.

The beings circled Harry, murmuring to one another in a long lost language. One of them laughed, a high pitched, screaming, sort of thing, before shaking his head dismissively.

Finally though, they seemed to reach a decision, as they nodded solemnly, before disappearing into an electrical explosion of magic, the strength of which knocked Draco to his knees, and Harry flat onto his back. 

Harry lay shaking on the ground, he could feel his heart thudding in his chest as his magic settled back down around him. 

It worked, he could feel it.

“Harry? Harry!!” Draco exclaimed, likely worried, Harry realized, as he’d been laying there immobile for a good minute.

Draco kneeled next to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and helping him sit up. 

They sat there together for a few minutes, Harry leaning his forehead on the other man’s shoulder until he felt strong enough to move.

When he finally looked up, he realized their faces were inches apart, so that he could feel Draco’s breath ghosting across his lips.

They made eye contact for a brief moment, grey locking on green, before Harry surged forward, their lips pressing together hotly.

They had kissed before, but never like this.

Before he knew it, Draco’s tongue was nudging insistently at the parting of his lips, which he opened eagerly.

Their tongues swirled together passionately, drawing a barley audible moan from somewhere deep in Harry’s chest.

Overcome, Harry clambered closer to Draco, climbing into his lap and straddling his hips.

Draco pressed his hips upward, their slowly hardening cocks pressing into one another.

Harry broke the kiss with a gasp, bending his head downwards to mouth along the curve of the other man’s neck, all while arching his hips in order to create more friction between the two of him.

The blond leaned his head backwards, small puffs of air escaping his lips as he struggled to maintain control of himself.

But then, Harry roughly nipped a spot just under his ear, and his fragile grasp on his self control was lost.

With a grunt, Draco surged forward, pushing Harry off of his lap, onto his back. He pinned the other man’s hands above his head, and wedged himself between the v of his legs.

He ground their cocks roughly together, and leaned forward to mouth on Harry’s neck.

Harry arched upwards off the ground, whimpering helplessly at the assault.

Breaking away, Draco murmured, “Is this okay?” He asked, punctuating his question with a particularly rough thrust of his hips.

“Yesss…” Harry replied breathlessly, hips bucking wildly.

“How about this?” Draco asked, reaching down to cup Harry’s growing bulge.  
“Draco, stop asking questions and just, ugh, fuck me, now.”

“My, my, someone is a little pushy…”

“I’ve wanted your dick in me since sixth year, you arse, you bet I’m pushy.”

With a chuckle, Draco acquiesced, vanishing their clothes with a wave of his hand.

Both of them groaned as their bare skin met, their pre-come allowing their cocks to glide together freely.

They thrust together for a moment, overwhelmed with the relief at their skin finally touching, before Draco left his position between Harry’s legs.

He slid down Harry’s body, taking the opportunity to suck a path of love bites from his neck to his abdomen. Once he reached his cock, he flattened his tongue to give a broad lick up the side of the other man’s shaft.

At Harry’s gasp, Draco smirked before engulfing the head of his cock into his mouth, sucking gently, and flicking his tongue along the underside.

He bobbed his head up and down, as Harry threaded his fingers into his disheveled blond hair. 

Draco pulled off as he felt Harry getting closer, ignoring his grunt of protest. He looked up at the man above him, taking in his shining emerald eyes, and his messy black hair, disheveled as it was from him running his hands through it in his frustration. 

He placed his hands beneath Harry’s knees, pushing them up in order to expose the entirety of the other man to him.

Draco placed light kisses along his thighs, stopping just short of his goal. He blew lightly over his hole, causing Harry to arch his hips upward, and whimper pleadingly.

Mouth watering in anticipation, Draco leaned forward and locked his lips around Harry’s quivering hole, sucking lightly, and running his tongue around the rim.

Soon he was tongue fucking him, feeling smug at the mewls of satisfaction escaping Harry’s lips.

He whispered a spell, wandlessly conjuring a handful of lube. He slowly slipped a lubed finger in next to his tongue, adding in a second after a moment.

Soon, Harry was writhing wildly as Draco scissored him open, and began to beg him for more.

“Please, Draco… Please. Just, ugh, fuck me, please!”

In response, Draco took the remaining lube, and slicked up his cock roughly, before positioning the head at Harry’s now gaping hole.

Slowly, Draco slid his cock into him, both of them gasping at the sensation. He pulled back slowly, until just the head remained inside of Harry.

He put an immense amount of effort into containing himself, not wanting to go too quickly and hurt the other man.  
After a few, slow, shallow, thrusts, however, Harry began insistently bucking his hips to match Draco’s rhythm, silently encouraging him to go faster. 

In response, Draco began to pick up the pace, until he was slamming roughly into Harry as their moans intermingled in the air. 

As he felt himself getting closer to the edge, he reached down between their stomachs and gripped Harry’s cock. He began jerking him off in time with his thrusts, letting Harry’s pre-come ease the way.

“See?” Draco began, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips, “I told you that you would like it… The dark, it feels good, oh so good, doesn't it?”

“Yesss…” Harry hissed, throwing his head back against the floor.

“Tell me, say it.”

“I, oh Gods, Draco, I liked it, fuck, I loved it, Draco, oh fuck! I loved the dark.”

The admission seemed to drive him over the edge, and he came, gasping, between their chests.

Draco gasped at the sensation of Harry tightening around him, and thrust jerkily a few more times, before crying out himself, and shooting his seed deep inside of the other man.

Harry moaned at the sensation, before Draco collapsed on top of him. After a moment of panting, he rolled off of him, leaving them laying side by side, panting, on the floor. 

It was only moments later that Harry felt ready to attempt speech. 

“What does this mean?”

“For us?”

“Well yes, but I meant for me. I enjoyed that, the rush of power, the feeling of strength… It was like my core was calling to it, the darkness of the magic. It scared me. But at the same time… I want to feel it again. What am I supposed to do?” Harry said hesitantly. Each word he said worried him, his whole life, he had been taught that to be a dark wizard was to be evil. 

“Harry, the first thing you're going to do is take a deep breath. Second, I’m going to take you upstairs and fuck you into oblivion. Then after that, we can take some time to figure out what to do, and if you really want to follow the path of the dark… Well, I’ll be by your side regardless,” Draco replied, annoyingly calm, Harry felt, considering the situation. 

Harry nodded, exhaling deeply, before following Draco upstairs, into the bedroom, where he was, as promised, fucked both thoroughly and frequently.

What happened from that moment on, would change the course of the magical world.

Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I left the ending somewhat ambiguous, so if anyone wants me to continue it, let me know!


End file.
